


I didn't know I wanted your help -- or at least let me pretend

by AnythingEver



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: But not between our bois, Getting Together, M/M, Tentacles, dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26429032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnythingEver/pseuds/AnythingEver
Summary: Jaskier buys a toy and tries to have a bit of fun, but something goes wrong. Luckily, Geralt is here to help him...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	I didn't know I wanted your help -- or at least let me pretend

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fill me, destroy me, make me cry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26424721) by [dat_carovieh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dat_carovieh/pseuds/dat_carovieh). 



> This has been written in parallel with the lovely dat_carovieh's piece. I hope you'll enjoy ^^

The shop was named “The Cat’s Tail”. And what a shop! Jaskier had been browsing the shelves for half an hour, mesmerized at all the strange and exotic things it was selling. A delicately chiseled hourglass that was said to have been able to turn back time, but that was now broken. An ensemble of golden circles creating an intricating sphere that could help you catch the messages sent by the stars. Small boxes holding perfumes that could enchant any man and render them slaves to the holder. Most of it was just storytelling around beautiful objects, Jaskier was well aware of the fact. But they were delightful stories, and fine objects and devices, and the poet within him was enchanted to hear such romantic fables.

A section of the shop was devoted to more… exotic apparatus, shall we say. Ones that were designed to provide pleasure, enhance it. The promises of luscious experiences.

It goes without saying, Jaskier had been attracted to this section like a moth to a flame. His eye had caught the intriguing device, that he was now holding in his hands. It was an oblong length of dark wood engraved with arabesques. Of course you would at first think that it was designed to be put in some pleasurable places. But the purpose was quite different, and the merchant seemed overjoyed to explain all it could do at great length. It should be noted that the bard was feeling a tad bit embarrassed by the possibilities.

“Just imagine Master Bard! Hours of unforgiving pleasures at the hands of this little thing. Or maybe not the hands. But still, what an experience!”

It was controlled by thoughts, with the help of a ring. Or more exactly, a set of rings. One would control the object, the other worked as a safeguard. As soon as the wearer thought of a specific word, everything would stop.

Jaskier had bought it.

Now, in the intimacy of his small bedroom at the inn where they were staying for the night, he was staring at the wooden device in his hand. He felt his stomach flutter with anticipation and just the tiniest bit of trepidation. What if someone was to enter the room while he was… busy? Surely it would be harder to hide than a simple, regular… alone time… What if Geralt entered the room? Just the thought of it made all his blood rush right into his cheeks. But he was surprised to discover that some also found its way toward the nether regions of his being, by the sole power of just imagining that his friend might come into the room at precisely the wrong moment. Which just made him blush harder. He shook his head. Those were thoughts for later. Later as in -never-. He opened the accompanying box.

Both rings were sitting on a cushion of red velvet, a glint of silver shining from them. Jaskier took them both in his hands and examined them. Both were engraved. One with the word “control”, the other with the words “safeguard - quetsch”. The bard wondered. Quetsch. That must be the safeword the merchant had told him about. So he just had to think “quetsch” and everything would stop.

He should have thought a bit more. And a bit more thoroughly, too. But he might not have had much time, and the febrility, and the excitement, and everything… He just put both rings on one of his fingers… Nothing happened. His lips contracted in a small pout. He took the device in his hands, turning it to inspect it, and then all of a sudden strong vines were wrapping themselves around his arms. He yelped in surprise, let go of the wooden piece that fell to the floor, and tried to struggle, but the vines were roping themselves tight, tugging his arms behind his back. Two others were dangerously circling his legs, winding themselves around his calves. Jaskier panicked. Wasn’t he supposed to control the whole thing? Why wasn’t this responding to his cries, his protests? One of the lower vines was sliding dangerously close to his cock through his pants. He shivered when he felt it rub against it. Another green tentacle, faster than the rest, found its way under his doublet, his shirt, and he struggled harder as he felt it slowly stroke his abdomen and his chest, but to no avail. The vine sprouted through his collar, circled his jaw, and demanded passage to his mouth. He was very keen on refusing, but a sharp, delicious rub against his crotch made him gasp, and it was enough for the plant to slide between his teeth. The vine keeping his mouth busy had sprawled, and he could feel smaller sprouts circling around his nipples. The vine smothered a moan from him, as the sprout currently rubbing his dick through his clothes was dangerously finding a way beyond the hem of his pants. He struggled harder as he felt it sliding through his pubic hair. He was starting to feel dizzy, thinking was getting more and more difficult. He thought about the word, the safeword, given to him by the device itself. Quetsch. Quetsch! He repeated in his mind like a mantra. But nothing was happening, and his mind was getting more clouded by lust by the minute. One last cry for help that sounded weak even to his own ear echoed to the feeling of another vine invading the back of his pants in a dangerous way…

*******

The ghoul’s nest had been fairly easy to dispatch. He had expected it to be so, but it was always nice when things were going according to plan. Truth be told the bard had been a great help in this case, by not being there. When the witcher didn’t have to worry about the safety of the one he insisted was not his friend, it unsurprisingly wasn’t so hard to focus on the job, and things could go smoothly.

And no, Jaskier wasn’t his friend, please don’t insist. No please actually. The bard was… Annoying. Loud. Colourful. Bright. Smiling. All the fucking time. Pure sunshine. In his otherwise too gray life. An annoying sunshine. Warm. Soft. Caring. Comforting. Dammit! He had to stop, this was a dangerous path, that would soon lead him to acknowledge things he didn’t want to, like how sweet it was to going back to someone, and how sweet that someone was, with a smile made of plump, red, far too kissable lips, and a round, firm ass, that Geralt couldn’t sometimes help but dream of maybe caressing, maybe fondling, maybe spreading, maybe pounding into, while hot moans would escape from the lips he would have ravaged with his kisses, and— dammit!

He was on his way, now, from collecting the money he had been owed for the job and toward the inn where they were supposed to spend the night. Climbing the stairs to the room he was sharing with the bard, though, something immediately feels off. A strange scent of sour watermelon. Arousal mixed with fear. Never a good combination. And the closer he got to their room, the more the knot in his stomach tightened. When he slammed the door open— Gosh! What a vision! It was awful, both very upsetting, and incredibly arousing. Which was even more upsetting. The bard was struggling against green tentacles assaulting him, violating him! His hands were held behind his back by vines tightly wrapped around them, his mouth was full of long tendrils moving in a way that can only mean one thing — they were fucking his mouth! — there were a few tears dripping from his eyes, and green appendages seemed buried deep in his undone breeches. Geralt could only guess what they were doing. And he was ashamed of the heat that submerged him at the sight, of the tightening of his pants around his cock. A moan, both lustful and desperate, called him back to the need of the moment as he surged toward the tentacles to rip them off of the bard’s half-naked body. But tugging and pulling didn’t seem as efficient as he’d have it, and he had no choice but to unsheath his sword and cut through the moving vines. It worked for a moment, and the poor disheveled man fell back to the floor when some of the assaulting limbs were severed away from touching him, but they were moving dangerously toward him only a moment later. Was it a moment of clarity in the haze of his half-forced lust, or a frenzied move to get rid of the device that had put him in such an embarrassing and unpleasant situation? Jaskier ripped both rings from his finger and threw them away from him. Instantly, the vines disappeared. Only the wooden tube was left on the floor, as well as the two golden bands.

Geralt found himself stunned by the view of the bard, disheveled, half-naked, flushed, panting like a half-copper whore. He couldn’t believe the truth of what he had just seen. And yet…

He took a few steps toward his… travel companion.

“Ja— Jaskier? Are you alright?

\- Er… Yeah… Yes… Yes. Yes! Perfectly fine! Thank you for… Your help… And your concern… I’m going to… Er… Go wash the… Uh, cat? Yes. Yeah. See you later Geralt!”

But the bard, flushed with shame and arousal both, hadn’t been able to move from the floor where he was sitting. It seemed like all his force had abandoned him. He commented on the situation with a small helpless whine. He couldn’t very well ask Geralt to help him get up, there was absolutely no fucking way the witcher was going to touch him in the next foreseeable future, not with the shame he just had to endure, and of which his friend had been a very regrettable witness. Jaskier simply couldn’t allow it.

But of course the world didn’t need his permission to do shit, and before he could even think of a good reason to oppose him he found his witcher -not his witcher thank you very much- kneeling by his side.

“Hey, you maybe shouldn’t get up immediately.” And then there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Seems like you exerted yourself here. What is it that you were trying to do exactly? Because whatever it was, I’m pretty sure it’s not what you were planning.”

How come the fucker was only using his words when it could embarrass him the most?

“Well if you must know, I got this… fancy… thing… at a nearby shop,” he gestured at the rings, the device, and the box, “but what should have been a lovely moment of intense, and very private,” he tried to throw a stern glare at the witcher but the state he was in rather dimmed the intended effect, “pleasure went… in an unpredicted direction, for a reason I quite can’t fathom.”

Geralt didn’t try to refrain his smirk before he got up and picked up both rings and the wooden contraption from the floor. He then went up to the box to examine it. He lifted the velvet cushion, and surely, a piece of paper fell on the table. Geralt unfolded it and read out loud.

“Dear customer, congratulation on your purchase! Please be aware that, under no circumstance should the rings be worn on the same finger at the risk of very unpleasant consequences. We hope you will enjoy your time with our product.”

Geralt lifted his eyes from the paper, and an unimpressed brow over his eye. Jaskier averted his gaze and started squirming on the floor.

“Well, I— may have forgotten to worry about…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, as the words died on his lips in embarrassment. Geralt couldn’t help thinking how adorable his bard was, flushed with shame as he was. Adorable— and very arousing…

The witcher sighed and smiled fondly. He came kneeling in front of the bard. "Bard, you're a lost cause I'm afraid." He bent over his very messy travel companion, his lips only a breath away from his. "What would you say to a little help with this thing?" He whispered, and maybe Jaskier could only hear the words because he could feel them against his lips. He felt drunk at the suggestion. Never could he have imagined— Ok, he _had_ imagined it many times, it was true, but this was reality! Geralt was offering him to… Oh gods! He felt dizzy, and could only nod in acceptance of the offer. He felt lips brushing against his in the softest kiss he had ever been given.

“Well,” Geralt said, “since you’re incapable of using it, we’ll put this in more capable hands than yours.”

And the witcher slipped one ring onto his own finger. He then grabbed Jaskier’s wrist, gently, and lifted it to slip the second ring onto the bard’s own finger.

“Think of the word,” he whispered, “and everything stops.” Did he pause for a dramatic effect? In his regular state, Jaskier would have wondered. As it was, he didn’t have room in his head to consider anything but whatever it was that was happening. “Until then,” the witcher added, “you’re mine to play with.”

(TBC...)

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget that authors are fed with love, kudos and comments ^^ I shall do my best to post the second and final chapter within the week ^^


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